Harry Potter and the Jewels of the Blood
by euclidimogen
Summary: The Dragons passed on their power, in the form of Jewels, before fading away. Now the Blood are few and they fear that their time is almost at its end... A reckoning is come, that will rock the wizarding world to its core. WARNING: Slash, HarryxNeville
1. Chapter 1

As usual, Harry Potter was wide awake, counting down the minutes until his birthday. He had been laying in the dark for the past hour and a half, since his aunt turned into bed and he turned off the light to avoid a lecture about 'wasting electricity' and 'who's gonna pay for this light bill!' But Harry didn't let thoughts of her ongoing tirades bring him down: he had so much to look forward to, this year.

Sirius had made arrangements (with quite a lot of money from the Black vault to grease some palms) so that once Harry was of age, they could have him legally emancipated from the muggles! Dumbledore still wouldn't allow Harry to move, permanently, into Grimmauld Place due to the 'blood wards,' but this would mean the man had lost all say in the matter.

In less than twenty minutes, Harry would be 'of age' and able to make decisions for himself. He would be free!

Harry stretched just for the hell of it, raising his hands as far as he could reach (which was now pretty far, since his growth spurt finally hit) towards the ceiling, before bringing them back down and folding them behind his head. He didn't feel any different, but he imagined there was a tension in the air...as the universe waited on the edge of its seat as much as he was. Twelve minutes and thirty-six seconds to go.

**SLAM!**

Like a bullet, Harry was out of bed and his holly wand was aimed unerringly at the door which had just been slammed open. His entire body was tense, for entirely different reasons, as he aimed about chest height from where he was crouched on the other side of the bed. He squinted hard and scrambled with his free hand for his glasses on the bedside table, a _Stupefy_ on the tip of his tongue.

"Harry!" came a terrible stage whisper, carrying clearly across the distance to Harry and probably even to his aunt behind her bedroom door. "Harry?" tried the voice again, now at a true whisper.

"Neville!" Harry yelped. He was surprised enough that he dropped his arm to the bed before realizing the mistake and raising it again. With his glasses on, he was able to confirm that Neville Longbottom really was standing in his bedroom doorway. "What the hell are you DOING here?"

"Ow! Oops! Darnit—mate, don't you ever clean?" Neville demanded, ignoring the question for the moment as he stumbled into the room and waded through the mess on the floor.

Neville turned around after clearing a swath of floor space with his foot and closed the door, pressing his palm against it for a few seconds and muttering. Harry sensed _something_ change, but he had no idea what. Since when did Neville use wandless magic? Since when did Neville even know where he _lived_? By the time Harry's brain got over being severely boggled, Neville had turned away from the door and was facing Harry again.

"Sorry about all this, Harr." he apologized brightly, his voice remarkably chipper for a midnight intruder. "I meant to get here with more time to spare, but Dumbledore really did a number on those wards! Took twice as long as I'd planned. Anyway-" he'd looked up from trying to navigate the piles of laundry, books, and shoes to get closer to Harry's bed and found Harry looking hard at him, wand aimed directly at Neville's heart.

"Tell me something only I would know." Harry asked, his voice calm and deadly serious.

"Uh... I... You saw me visiting my parents three years ago; my mom gave me a gum wrapper, which I saved."

Slowly, Harry bent his arm at the elbow, pointing his wand towards the ceiling but still ready, just in case. "Ok. Now, ask me something else."

"What's my boggart and how did I defeat it?"

"A whole room of people saw that, Ne-"

"Forget about it. I already know you're you and I'm me."

Harry calmed visibly and Neville brushed by him to take a seat on the twin bed. He jumped up almost immediately and shook off his coat, laying it down gently at the foot of the bed before taking a seat properly.

"Now, tell me why you're here. How'd you even get here?"

"We don't have time for all that, Harry. Not right now." Neville held up a hand to forestall the objection Harry would have made, "After. After, I promise. But right now, I'm here to give you a bit of warning and prepare you for what's about to happen."

"What's about-"

"Harry. Seriously, mate. Just let me get through this in one go. We're pressed for time, as it is."

They both looked at the glowing readout on the digital clock next to Harry's bed and Harry finally sat down at his desk. Neville, meanwhile, rummaged through the pockets of his coat before taking out three unusual objects. First came a cup—well, really, it was more of a goblet. It looked like beaten silver and was old enough that it could have passed for pewter at a glance. Then, a long box that reminded Harry of the wand boxes at Ollivander's. And, finally, was a heavy stone bowl. It was carved on the inside and the outside and was obviously ceremonial—Harry wondered if it was a particularly old pensieve that had yet to be filled.

"Ok. First things, first: We should switch seats."

Neville packed the goblet and box on top of the bowl and stood up, motioning impatiently for Harry to come to the bed so Neville could sit at the desk. Once he did, Neville grabbed Harry's trunk and dragged it to the side of the bed so that he was facing Harry over the trunk.

"Lay down, Harry,"

Neville said absentmindedly, opening the box to reveal four tapered candles and their holders—which looked like they were part of a set, with the goblet.

Looking up, Neville was surprised to see Harry still sitting up and repeated himself slowly, "Lay. Down. Harry."

The Boy-Who-Lived jerked, his eyes jumping from the objects Neville was setting up on his trunk and laid down. He stretched out upside down on the bed, so that his head was closer to whatever Neville was up to, and he could keep an eye on him.

Neville was silent for the next few moments, placing the yellow, green, purple, and brown candles in their holders before moving everything off the trunk again. He pulled a gray silk square out of one of the obviously charmed pockets of his coat and positioned it like a diamond over the trunk, so all the corners were left bare, before replacing everything on top of the silk.

A candle at each corner, the bowl in the center, and the chalice before it, on Harry's side. Quite casually, Neville leaned over to his boot and pulled out a dagger half as long as his forearm. He hefted it confidently before turning the hilt until he was comfortable and moved towards Harry, who understandably, jerked away and began raising his wand again.

"Neville," Harry croaked, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Oh. Right, sorry." Neville immediately dropped the knife, placing it on the trunk next to the bowl. "I just wanted to be sure I didn't forget anything—but you're still clueless."

Neville glanced over his shoulder at the clock and grimaced to see that it was already 11:57.

"Ok, short version of it is, like this: my mum and your mum were closer than you know. We're not related, but we might as well have been. They were different, Harry—they and a few other witches and wizards are different from the rest. We inherited the same...gifts, they had. But it doesn't reveal itself until we reach sixteen. In about two minutes, you're going to undergo something we call the 'Offering Ceremony.' It's what will determine what jewels you're going to wear. I'm sorry, I know this is terribly rushed and really unfair, but my Gran and I were afraid your mom didn't have a chance to leave anything that would warn you about this. It's better to be as prepared as you can be, before it happens."

"Before WHAT happens? Offering to what? Offering _of_ what? Jewels? Nevile, you're not making sense!" Harry yelled, obviously worried and more than a bit frustrated.

Neville looked apologetic and only said, "We're out of time. Here, give me your wrist." He grabbed Harry's left hand before Harry could answer and raised the dagger, bringing it down so quickly that blood had welled up before Harry even realized he was cut.

"AH! NEV—AAAAAHHHHHH!"

Harry screamed and his body went rigid, the experience and effects were not unlike being under the Cruciatus, as the four candles lit themselves and Neville yanked Harry's hand over the bowl. Neville's eyelids drooped until they were half-closed and he entered a trance, chanting under his breath and all the while riding the jerks and spasms as Harry's body seized and bucked on the bed. After almost five minutes, Neville clenched both hands around Harry's and sent a burst of power through him. Harry's body fell as if it had been stunned, but his facial expression was caught in an open mouthed scream.

Turning his friend's hand over, Neville blotted at his palm with a handkerchief that appeared out of nowhere before pressing two fingers over the cut. Rapidly, it healed over until there wasn't even a scar. Then, Neville gently placed Harry's hand back at on the bed, and took his seat again.

There was no telling how long his vigil would be, so Neville was prepared to wait until the morning. Leaning back in his chair, he summoned a book and a thin, dusty bottle of what looked to be red wine out of his coat. He set the bottle on the desk behind him and the book he opened on his lap. There was a new moon, so no natural light, but with a snap of his fingers, he created a ball of witch-light to light the room as he turned the pages to his bookmark...


	2. Chapter 2

"Whoooa! Whoa, whoa, it's alright. Harry, it's alright," Neville soothed, pressing down firmly on Harry's chest. Neville was just beginning to wonder if it would be better to climb on the bed and restrain him, when Harry collapsed and the breath went out of his body.

"What—what happened?" Harry gasped, laboring for breath as he stopped trying to sit up.

"Here, drink this." Neville ignored the question for now, offering instead the silver chalice from before. It was filled now, with a blood red liquid, and steaming lightly. "Slowly," he cautioned when Harry grasped the handle for himself.

Harry had enough presence of mind to blow across the rim—which was more than Neville had thought to do after _his_ Ceremony—before sipping it once, twice, and then gulping the entire potion. He retched afterward, thrusting the goblet back to Neville.

"Ack! What are you trying to do to me, Nev?"

Chuckling, Neville accepted it and placed it back on the trunk. He walked around Harry's bed to sit down again and extinguished the wicks by hand, in counter-clockwise order from the upper left.

"You'll thank me, later, when you don't have a splitting headache every time you see sunlight."

"Huh?"

"All in good time, my friend." Neville was back to his unusually bright and somewhat cryptic self, apparently.

Struggling, Harry pushed himself up to his elbows, and then sat up entirely. He watched Neville dismantle the ceremony and waited until everything was put up before reaching out and grabbing both of his wrists.

"Stop it. Now, tell me what just bloody happened. Why are you here? How did you know? What does any of this have to do with my mum?"

Neville sighed but didn't resist him, moving only enough to get comfortable. "You might as well let go. We should both get comfortable so I can explain everything."

Harry nodded and released him, turning around and scooting back until he was leaning against the headboard.

Neville took a deep breath and started talking, his voice resigned but serious.

"It all started with my mum. She was the oldest of them, and the first to make her Offering. What you just went through—it's sort of a... coming-of-age. Like purebloods and their coming out, but ours isn't a social ceremony. It's tied to our magic, what you may now decide to call "Craft." Everyone doesn't go through what you just went through, in fact as far as I know, there are less than a hundred of us in total left in the UK. Something like 80, maybe 85 by New Year's.

"On our sixteenth birthdays, at the hour we were delivered, we all experience our first Descent. It's not the same for everyone, but overall what happens is we descend until we have reached our limit. That limit corresponds to a jewel—which we use to channel our power to perform Craft—and each jewel represents a certain level of power. The darker the jewel is, the more powerful the wielder. Er, at least, it means the more power the wielder can use; in brute force, someone may be stronger but easily outclassed by someone who knows more Craft or who takes them by surprise.

"You," Neville pointed at Harry, motioning to the two necklaces and armband that he had woken up with, "are a Red to Black jeweled Warlord Prince. The Red, being the lighter jewel, is called your Birthright Jewel. The Black, is your Offering, or Descent, Jewel. I'll explain about the title later, it's important but not immediately necessary.

"Long ago, before the Founders, before Merlin even, there were many more of us. Very few people alive know that the wizards and witches of today are muggles who were blessed with magic before the great majority of us passed on. Before them, there was us. We are the Blood, originally the peoples of three realms: Terreille, the Light Realm; Kaeleer, the Shadow Realm; and The Dark Realm. By 'we,' I mean you and me, and our mums." Neville paused and smiled brightly at Harry. "Any questions?"

Harry just stared at him for the longest time, and then he blinked rapidly. "What about my dad? And what about you—where are your 'jewels'?"

In another situation, they could have had quite a few jokes to share about that one. Unfortunately, everything seemed just a bit too far-fetched to be so casual.

"Er...I don't know how to soften the blow, Harry. But...your dad's not your dad. Or, he's not your biological father. I don't know who is. Same for me; my mom married Frank Longbottom to keep up appearances and protect the secret of the Blood. This isn't something you can ever share, Harry. Ever."

Harry scowled at Neville and was about to respond to that, when Neville continued, talking over him as if unaware.

"And I wear the same jewels, actually. Maybe we can see who tips the scales, later?" Neville reached up under his collar and pulled out two silver chains bearing a ruby and onyx jewel before rolling up both sleeves to reveal two wristbands with the same.

Harry was momentarily sidetracked and asked him. "Isn't that obvious? I've only the one armband." he raised his ruby armband before lowing it again.

"Not necessarily. It's not how many pieces, or how they're mounted—all that is superficial—but the depth of the actual jewels. For instance, a wand that's been carved with designs and is polished everyday isn't necessarily more powerful than a simple wand."

"How do you know about my dad, then?"

"Oh. Well, unlike wizarding magic, we only inherit if both of our parents are Blood. Otherwise, you would he a halfblood and you wouldn't wear jewels or have an Offering. And we know for a fact that James Potter was a pureblood wizard, without any Craft."

The silence stretched between them again, but it was more comfortable this time. Harry was obviously adjusting, and he seemed to be taking all of the revelations very well. Honestly, he was being much calmer than Neville had given him credit for.

"So...what now?" Harry asked, looking up from fingering the jewels around his neck.

"Well, you can't stay here any longer, for one. Gran's fixed you up a room with us, until you work out your situation with Gringott's and pick one of your homes to live in. Or whatever. She probably wouldn't mind if you just stayed on with us until break's over."

Harry's forehead puckered and Neville fought back a smile at how adorable he looked when he was obviously thinking hard. "What about—who—" he stopped trying to talk, took a deep breath and tried again. "Dumbledore says it's important for me to stay here, because I need to renew the wards. My mum did someth—is that what this was all about?"

Neville smiled, nodding slowly before explaining. "Somewhat. This would have happened, regardless, but especially because of what our mums did for us, it means you can't stay here. Dumbledore will no doubt sense the changes and come around, investigating. He's already suspicious of us because of the lengths my Gran went through to keep him away from me, so I'd rather be gone before he, or anyone from the Order, arrives."

Harry's smile was one part mischief and three parts glee as he shot out of bed, feeling more than recovered from the weird birthday surprises. "Alright, then. Can you help with the packing?"

Neville shook his head unbelievably but agreed it would save time, so he had Harry get right back on the bed and raising both arms dramatically, brought them in as if he was going to fold them. Everything that wasn't bolted down simply vanished. Harry jerked, wondering how the hell Neville managed that, but didn't have a chance to ask him. Moving quicker than Harry would have thought possible, Neville grabbed up his coat, took hold of Harry's shoulder, and they were the ones who disappeared.

Aurors Shacklebolt and Moody apparated onto Privet Drive not even thirty seconds later, expecting to walk into a Death Eater raid. Instead, they were treated to a quiet suburb in the middle of their sleep. They approached Number Four cautiously, Moody's magical eye whizzing as he searched for the slightest thing out of place. When they reached the edge of the property, Shacklebolt raised his wand and right hand as well and tested the wards for more information.

Moody walked up to the front door and magically unlocked it, striding into the quiet house after verifying there wasn't an ambush waiting for him. His luck held as he hobbled up the steps, soundlessly, and reached Potter's door. He heard all three of the boy's muggle relatives in various stages of sleep, but went on instant alert when the door opened to gentle prodding by his wand. He ducked back and down, expecting spell-fire, and was ready to lay into Potter for not displaying any CONSTANT VIGILANCE, when he glanced around the corner and finally saw what he had ignored during the many sweeps of his magical: Not only was Potter gone: he was, and with everything but the bloody furniture.

* * *

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Harry was still burning with questions when they arrived at their destination, but he could see that Neville had strained himself to get them away. So he thanked him and after being shown where the loo was and accepting the chore of packing away his belongings for real this time, he wished Neville goodnight. He was glad to be able to use his wand to help with the packing and had quite a pile of garbage, courtesy of the Dursleys, when he was through. The sun was just rising when Harry forced himself to wash up and change to get into bed. While his brain was coursing with energy and questions and theories about what was to come, his body was sorely exhausted. Before he even pulled she sheets up, he was knocked out.

Two rooms over, Augusta Longbottom sat up in bed reading. Or at least holding up a book and attempting to read; until she heard first her grandson and then his friend, finally quiet down. Only then did she set her book aside—not having turned a page since she felt Neville's return—and drift off, herself.


	3. Chapter 3

When Neville finally woke up and dragged himself out of bed, it was well past noon. He trudged through the bathroom to wash up but didn't bother changing out of his jammies before walking out of his room and to the dining room. As he expected, Gran was not only up but dressed and attentive for a new day. He greeted her sleepily, kissing her on his way to the chair at the head of the table, and was nursing his second cup of coffee before he realized that Harry had preceded him into the room.

"Mornin' mate!"

Neville only nodded in reply. His eyes twitched as he tried to marshal his brain and force himself into wakefulness. He only succeeded partially, enough to set down his coffee and start on the breakfast which the house elves had served him. His gran and Harry returned to whatever they had been discussing and Neville was glad to focus on getting some fuel into his system. After his third helping, he felt full and once again human, and looked up cheerfully to join the conversation.

Except that Harry was missing, now, and his gran was in the process of leaving. She turned at the door and addressed him in a tone that put McGonagall to shame, "When you are once again _decent_, please do attend to Mr. Potter. It is impolite to neglect your guests, Neville."

"Yes, Gran," he replied. Neville fought with himself not to duck his head abashedly and sound only serious and not like a six year old who had just been chastised.

Mrs. Longbottom sniffed and turned back around, going off to handle whatever fallout Dumbledore might manage to stir up over his missing protege. Neville had a glass of water before standing up and leaving himself, making his way back to the master suite.

He showered and dressed in record order, choosing corduroys and a white button-down before going in search of Harry. He wasn't in his room and Neville was tempted to send him a spear thread, except that Harry hadn't had years of Basic Craft to help him adjust, like Neville had.

_'Wouldn't want to shock him into the Twisted Kingdom or something equally tragic.'_ Neville thought.

Instead, Neville just called out for Bonner and asked him to find Harry. The house elf didn't even have to search, just told Neville that 'Master's guest is in _the courtyard_.'

Neville grinned to hear the disapproving tone in the house elf's voice, wondering, not for the first time, whether Bonner was responsible for his gran's signature look of shame or if his gran had taught Bonner the expression. He found Harry, as expected, in the courtyard. Or, at least, in the air space over the courtyard.

"Hey, Harry!" Neville called up to him.

"Nev! Feeling better?" Harry called back, descending gradually on his broom until he was about eye level.

"Yeah. Sorry about that—it was a long night."

Harry waved him off and Neville followed him back into the house, where Harry promptly dismounted and carried the broom the rest of the way back to the guest room. Once his Firebolt was stowed away, Harry turned back to face Neville and smiled wide. "So, what are you teaching me first?"

"Eh?" Neville deadpanned. He was toeing the pile of junk Harry had left out in the middle of the room.

"Oh." Harry sounded a bit sheepish as he saw where Neville's attention was focused. "Is it alright if I ask the elves to do away with that stuff? It's all castoffs and hand-me-downs from the Dursleys. Stuff they would've been ashamed to give to a drive."

The air chilled and Neville looked dangerously from the pile to Harry's casual expression. He was about to light it all on fire, when the lot of it vanished from sight. He didn't question which of the elves were responsible, but sent a general 'Thank you' on a general thread to them all.

Neville closed his eyes for a few moments afterward to reign in his temper, before he went back to Privet Drive and let each of his relatives know, in painful and exacting detail, what the price was for messing with _his_ Co—What! Neville immediately derailed that train of thought before it could be completed. Neither of the places he could have been going with that idea, were good places to go. Harry hadn't even—

"Neville? Hey, earth to Neville..." Harry was waving his arm in front of Neville's face and just reached out to clap his shoulder when Neville's eyes popped open and he swung into motion, shoving his traitorous thoughts aside.

"Come on, we have some more catching up to do before the others get here." he said over his shoulder as he led the way out of Harry's room, detoured briefly into his room to pick up a small chest, and right back out again.

They backtracked towards the dining room, but turned two halls before they reached it. They entered what Harry assumed was a study, not that he had much intimate experience of pureblood homes outside of Grimmauld Place.

"Others? Who else?"

"Oh, you know, Luna, Blaise, and probably Draco, if he can get away."

"DRACO! DO you mean blood MALFOY?" Harry had stopped completely in the doorway and was sputtering, his color rising as he glared at Neville.

A pained expression crossed Neville's face and he reached out a hand and started walking back to Harry.

"Um. Yeah, sorry. I forgot about that. He's one of us—the Blood, I mean. All the other rot is just...we have to keep up appearances, Harry. You most of all. There's no telling what Voldemort would do if he found out you had made your Offering uninterrupted."

Neville wasn't as affected by the cold waves coming off of Harry, but he knew it'd be struggle trying to contain a Warlord Prince, by himself, the first time he cross the killing edge. So he did the only thing he could think of, and took Harry's hand in his and leaned in until they were sort of awkwardly hugging, but without any arms, as he was still carrying the chest.

"Harry...trust me. You trust me, right?" Neville asked softly, leaning back to look him in the eyes.

Slowly, Harry nodded and tried to reason out what was going on.

"Okay. Control yourself, Harry. I know you can. There's no danger."

Neville kept on rubbing Harry's forearm and prayed that he wasn't actually making it worse. He'd expected more back-up before getting into sticky situations like this.

Finally, Harry stopped trembling and Neville sighed as he felt Harry's body relax. He moved to step away but suddenly found Harry was the one hugging him, now. He took the hint and laid his head back down on Harry's shoulder, letting him calm down and get a grip at his own pace. When the embrace loosened, Neville pulled away again. He didn't meet any resistance so he finished backing up and turned around, leading Harry by the hand to the desk at the end of the room.

"Sit," Neville ordered in a strangely high voice. As he walked around the desk and took a seat himself, he cleared his throat experimentally.

He pretended not to notice that Harry remained standing until Neville was in his own chair, convinced that he was misreading things and projecting onto the reality of their situation. The chest was laid down equally distant between them and Neville tapped the lid with a fingernail. It slid aside and vanished completely when it reached the end, instead of dropping to the desk.

"This is for you," Neville said. "You can store your jewels in it, so you don't walk around carrying them on you. They are pretty much interchangeable, as you learn Craft and how to moderate yourself, you can estimate how much power you'll need for any given task. Unlike wizarding magic, we need to use our power, Harry. Even the lightest jeweled Blood feel better when they bleed off some power on a daily basis. Considering how dark we are—Black is the darkest jewel possible, by the way—it means that as many 'little things' as you can do in a day, feel free.

"This won't be a concern as you learn, because you'll be practicing as much as studying, but afterward, it is something to keep in mind. They don't need to be cared for, per se, but you are bonded to them so don't neglect one for another, too long. In practical terms, it's just not logical to use a Black jewel for much of anything that's not formal or complex Craft: it'd be like using a bludgeoning hex when you want to banish something across a room. You'd blow it up and unnecessarily weaken yourself."

Neville paused and nudged the box closer to Harry with Craft. "Go ahead."

Harry took off the armband first and placed it in the velvet lined and cushioned interior. Then he removed the jewels around his neck, fingering them both before placing the larger Black jewel inside as well. He looked up expectantly at Neville, who held out a hand for one of Harry's.

"Now, I'm going to show you how to use a bit of your jewel. Basic Craft doesn't always require you to dip into the reservoir a jewel represents, but by using your jewel, you imprint the Craft with your magical signature. This box, obviously, isn't something you're going to leave lying around or want anyone to have access to. Later, you can decide to enchant it however you like, but for now it'll be enough key it to you in particular. Pay attention, it's like finding your core, or the passive magic you use to control your broom..."

They were both silent then as Neville slowly showed Harry how to access his inner Web, draw power from it, and send it out. They repeated it a few times and then Neville had Harry try for himself. After the first time, when he overshot it and used enough power to send the chest skidding across the desk, he had it almost perfect.

"Great job, Harry. From now on, no one can open it or force it open unless you do. That's another thing—unlike wands, jewels can never be used by more than one person. You'd not only lose your own connection to your jewels, you would likely be driven insane if you ever tried to channel through someone else's jewels. You can affect someone else's jewels, but using them yourself, is suicidal."

Harry nodded along but then grinned wickedly. "When do we get to the good stuff?"

Neville answered his grin and leaned back, glad to have covered the basics. He'd leave it to Blaise or Draco to explain castes and Protocol to Harry. He might need some space and come to certain decisions, once he knew about Neville and the influence and bone-deep reactions between a Queen and a Warlord Prince, anomalies or not.


	4. Chapter 4

Neville walked into the study, still reading through Luna's amazingly long and detailed letter. She had just gotten back from an expedition with her father and they had actually made contact with a herd of Kindred unicorn. Smiling at her anecdotes, he didn't notice the room was already occupied until he was halfway to the desk. He started when he saw Harry sitting quite calmly behind the desk and treating him to glare that should have left scorch marks on the parchment.

"Er..." Neville's face flashed through expressions of surprise, longing, and regret, before settling on a forced smile that lacked any humor.

He folded the letter and slipped into his hand, along with his hands, and debated against which would be more awkward: moving forward to take a seat in front of Harry, or remaining standing with more space between them than was polite for conversation. He decided to stand. It had been a difficult three weeks, to avoid Harry whenever the others weren't around, but he had managed so far. This was inevitable.

"So." Neville tried again, trying for upbeat in his tone but just sounding shrill instead. He cleared his throat and spoke more calmly, "I was just gonna write a reply to Luna. It can wait."

He made to turn around but jumped when a Black shield sprang up, barring his way. It was purely for show, since they had ascertained that Harry's Red was darker, but Neville's Black outclassed him twice over the margin between their depths at the Red. Nonetheless, Neville shivered at the obvious message behind the show of power. He considered just walking through it, or turning on Harry and working himself up into a fit of outrage.

Before he could decide, a hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. Neville squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, fighting against the reaction such a simple gesture brought swelling up inside of him.

"Neville." came Harry's voice, soft but firm.

"What?" he tried to sound exasperated, but his resolve sounded weak even to his ears. One good push and he'd blow over.

"I—What did I do?"

The pain in Harry's voice moved him like confrontation or pleading couldn't have. Turning around slowly, Neville was surprised to see the grief etched across Harry's face. A part of his mind absently judged and applauded Harry for having mastered shielding so completely that Neville had sensed nothing—not his presence, or his state of mind—when he sampled the area with psychic tendrils.

"No, you didn't do anything, Harr. I just—I'm—did Blaise and Draco explain?"

His brows furrowed as Harry tried to figure out which of the many explanations he'd had from the other two, about Protocol, Craft, Ceremonies, the Darkness, Courts and their makeup, caring for witches, claims and how to respond to them, and daily lessons in what it meant to be a Warlord Prince of the Blood.

Neville, though, felt a physical blow because he saw the pain lingering in Harry's eyes even as he turned inward. Cursing himself three kinds of foolish, Neville sighed and drew Harry's attention.

"About castes? Mine, in particular?"

"Oh. Yeah, they did the first day—wanted me to be aware and make sure I didn't mess up or insult you." Harry replied casually. "Why didn't you tell me? Or tell them, if I did? I'm sorry, Nev, for whatever it was I did, or didn't, do, as the case may be. I'm trying, I promise."

Neville closed his eyes and backed up a step, putting more distance between them. When he opened them, they were soft but his voice was steady.

"Stop apologizing. You haven't done anything, or not done anything, wrong. It's me—I don't want to push you or force a decision on you, Harry. There are other Queens out there, Queens who you could serve one day. Queens who don't break every rule and precedent set by the Blood."

Harry smiled, the fool actually smiled! Neville almost wanted to slap him, but then remembered that he was the one in the wrong this time. But that didn't mean the idiot could just laugh at him!

"You can't be serious! From what Luna tells me, we're all breaking the rules from back then. It wasn't normal to have this many dark jewels once in a generation, much less have so many be consistently dark jeweled. Not to mention the multiple castes, and the fact that Courts have shrunken over time along with our population." He sobered then and took a step to close the distance between them again. "Neville, there are plenty of scholars and books and essays who could explain it in big, technical terms. They'd talk about the need being just as great in spite of our decline and vessels have to serve more purposes to care for the land and all that. I don't care."

"But—"

"No. Listen to me. We've tried your way, now how about we try mine?"

"Harry, there's so much that I—"

"I don't care, Nev."

"What if you regret it? What happens when later on you meet some Queen and realize you didn't have to settle for the first one who found you? What about me, damnit!" His voice grew louder with every word, until he ended on a shout.

Harry reached out to pull him into a hug and Neville collapsed. He let go and just allowed himself to be held.

"You don't understand, Harry." Neville mumbled before turning his face so he was talking into Harry's neck instead of his shoulder. "No one likes to be reminded about me; especially not the other Queens. Luna and Ginny, sure, but they're the exception, not the rule. I shouldn't—they'll think I'm trying to build a power base or something just as contrived and idiotic. And what am I supposed to tell Blaise, after this? He and Draco tried pledging to me before Fourth Year—I swore I would never act on it and promised to help them find good Courts to serve in."

"Do you think so little of us, then?"

Neville jerked up, trying to turn around, but stopped as Harry only tightened his hold on him. He hadn't even noticed when Blaise—damn! And now that he was looking, he sensed Draco, as well—had come in. He gave up struggling against Harry and focused on the desk over Harry's shoulder as he tried to control his temper.

"NO! Mother Night have mercy, don't you understand? I won't be doing you any favors! If I didn't wear the Black, they'd probably all shun me and try to stuff me in a corner." Harry lowered his arms and Neville spun away instinctively, to face the other two. "They're not bloody purebloods, who'll settle for gossip and whispers behind our backs! We are BLOOD—if I collect three of the most powerful young Warlord Princes, they will fight! Maybe not tomorrow, but once the news spreads, and we come of age, all bets will be off. I'm trying—I'm trying-" he stuttered, looking crazily between all three of the creepy smiles. "WHY THE BLOOD HELL ARE YOU SMILING!" he roared, clenching his hands to keep from slapping the leers off their faces.

"You didn't say no this time," Draco crooned.

"In fact," Blaise said triumphantly, "it almost sounds like you gave in."

"Not 'almost,' Blaise. It was all present tense." Harry almost whooped as they all descended on Neville.

Neville was stunned and didn't realize he was surrounded until three pairs of arms wrapped around him.

Fighting himself not to give into the group embrace, he sputtered and tried to shout again. He was muffled between Blaise's shoulder and Draco's arm, though.

"You're all insane! Someone needs to rescue you from the Twisted Kingdom!"

"Oh, shove it already, man. We've made our choice." Blaise said, his smile bright enough to power an entire city block.

"And so, apparently, have you." Harry squeezed him, tightening his hold just a bit around Neville's waist.

The others took the hint and backed off, still with their arms around each other. "We'll call the girls and make sure everything's arranged!"

Neville's jaw had yet to close and as he allowed Harry to turn him around so they were face to face again, his eyes squinted dangerously. "You planned this, didn't you?"

Still grinning, Harry's eyes sparkled and he confessed happily. "Guilty."

Neville raised a hand to swat him, but Harry caught it and pulled it to his lips instead. He kissed the back of it slowly and deliberately, his eyes never moving from Neville's.

"I—"

"Have done your best to show us why we shouldn't serve you. Now, let me tell you why he should." Harry continued for him, keeping hold of Neville's hand as he kneeled in front of him. "Because you're honest, loyal, and you put all of us before yourself. Because you call to me and I feel you even when you're not around. Because, Neville, it is our right and our duty to cherish, protect, and serve you. Because no one else is ever going to mean as much to me, as you do." Harry paused and let go of Neville's hand, bowing his head in complete surrnder.

"Your will is my life. Take what you need."

Neville melted and he did so unashamedly. He started to kneel as well, but stopped when Harry squeezed his hand almost painfully. So he straightened up and cleared his throat before addressing the Warlord Prince before him.

"Rise, Prince. May I prove worthy of your service."


End file.
